He’s early. Again. Standing awkwardly outside the classroom door, holding Marley’s favourite dinosaur lunchbox. You glance up from your clipboard.

He meets your eyes for a moment, then drops them. “Sorry. She gets mad if I don’t pack the blue spoon,” he says, smiling softly. “Apparently the green one makes the yogurt taste different.”

You laugh. Not loud, but enough. “Four-year-olds have strong opinions.”

He nods. Looks at you again. “She talks about you a lot, you know. At home.”

You glance at him, surprised. “All good things?”

“Only good things.” He smiles, real, this time.